


A Lesson of Care

by Black_Teapot



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Can be see as both, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Kit Fisto as Guest Star, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Non-Consensual Drug Use, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Pre-Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Touch-Starved, Whump, Written for the QuiObi Writing Discord
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21772882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Teapot/pseuds/Black_Teapot
Summary: A mission going wrong, a hurt Master.Maybe it's an occasion for Obi-Wan to discover something about himself.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 92





	A Lesson of Care

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Whump challenge of the QuiObi Writing Discord. Prompt: Touch-Starved
> 
> I'm very happy to share this fanfiction with you! English isn't my mother tongue so if you see some mistakes, please don't hesitate to show them to me in comments. Enjoy!

Their last mission had been a complete disaster. The two different parties governing over Hulio lied to the Senate, having no intention to sign a peace treaty. Consequently, they sabotaged it pretty early on. Clues had appeared as soon as they landed on the small and somewhat neglected spaceport: the lax security, the lukewarm welcome and tensed smiles... Then things escalated quickly, with traps, a poison attempt on a judge and finally a bomb planted into the council room. The groups prospering thanks to the money created by the war must have become hopeless to use such an unsubtle stratagem to end the negotiations.

But the consequences were here: two dead political figures, some injures guards and a missing Jedi Master. By the time the rubbles were cleared, there was no trace left of him.

Senior Padawan Kenobi was completely out of his dept. He had led the rescue of the shocked staff before contacting the Temple. The situation was too volatile to rest only on the shoulders of an apprentice.

Knowing his responsibilities and the importance of his role as a peacekeeper, he waited three days for the oncoming support, as calmly as possible. He distracted himself from the feeling of dread invading his heart by enforcing a cease-fire and organising some humanitarian relief. Those days immersed in the local population gave him a brand new and accurate vision of the conflict. The two different factions governing the planet, an elite representing only five per cent of the inhabitants, encouraged the rivalries and the armed confrontations between the ethnical groups. It helped them to stay in power, to control the population and to enrich themselves at their expense.

Obi-Wan could only think about that as he continued to walk down the old road. Misery and half-treated injuries were omnipresent once you get in the suburbs of the capital. He looked at a little girl –five or six standard years-old-, standing before a house made of rusted iron sheets. The left side of her face was distorted by an angry red wound. He approached her, hands carefully left in evidence, before taking a ration-bag from his backpack.

“Here, that’s for you. The blue packet in there will purify the water and put in it agents accelerating your recovery. Drink it today and you’ll feel better.”

The young girl hesitated before she took the bag, a smile quietly flowering on her lips. It pulled the tense and damaged skin of her cheek, revealing some white bone near her jaw. Obi-Wan felt suddenly sick, acidic bile burning his throat. He turned his head to the right, expecting the support of his Master, with a serious expression but _always_ caring eyes. The emptiness at his side and the dirty streets almost seemed to laugh at him.

* * *

On the morning of the fourth day, a smooth silver and blue spaceship landed on Hulio. The anxious young Jedi welcomed his pilot on the tarmac, bowing before him.

“Master Fisto, it’s a pleasure to see you. Your help will be precious in the resolution of this conflict.”

“Padawan Kenobi, there’s no need of such formalities. We heard your call and no apprentice has to face this kind of situation alone. Please, can we go to a secure area to have a briefing on the important stakes? I’d also like to hear your conclusions on the political context and the living conditions of the population.”

The two Jedi walked toward the city centre side by side, cloaks billowing in the wind.

* * *

Understanding the motivations of all the players in this game was essential to find Master Qui-Gon. His kidnapping at the hands of one of the factions’ multiple militias made no doubt. A difficult and time-consuming investigation was required to find the right opponent.

The researches took too much time for Obi-Wan. It was difficult to stay calm and in control when the most important person in your life disappeared. But the Padawan tried so hard, thinking about his mentor. He wanted to make him proud, to see the little smile at the corner of his lips when he would learn his apprentice’s behaviour.

Each night he released his frustration and anxiety in long katas. In his light tunic and night pants, Obi-Wan tested his stamina, reproducing the broad movements of the Shii-Cho, muscles tense by the effort. This sequence was the first learned by the Initiates; his familiarity with the movements made it the perfect outlet for his feelings. Sweat was damping his short and spiky hair. As the last motion was executed, he almost reached a sentiment of peace.

* * *

They finally found him in a bleak cave, at an hour-long distance of the capital. The militia had already deserted, having heard of their arrival. Nothing was like Obi-Wan expected. No quiet explanations of the current situation from Master Fisto, no half-smile on his Master’s tired face, no enquiries.

The two Jedi were welcomed by bloodstains on the walls and a shaking man curled up on the floor.

“Master!”

Obi-Wan ran toward him, kneeling abruptly on the rocks. He delicately moved the stiff arms from the man’s torso to assess his injuries. Skin and flesh were missing from his wrists, attesting the use of some kind of restraint. More worrying were the multiple injection’s marks near his elbows. He could count more than ten spots on each limb. They must be the reason their link in the Force was so hazy and his Master’s eyes seemed unable to focus on anything.

“Master, we’re here to get you out. Can you hear us?”

The young man’s heart beat faster and faster as his mentor stayed listless. Sour panic started to invade him.

“Master, can you hear me?”

Four steps echoed behind him before a hand was put on his shoulder.

“Padawan Kenobi, medical support is coming by air in three minutes. Put Master Jinn in a secure position to lead him in the air ambulance.”

Obi-Wan slid his arms behind the knees and torso of the Jedi to lift him. The Force helped him to find his balance and to keep his legs from buckling under the weight. He was smaller and lighter than his mentor and had therefore never carried him. The sensation was strange but welcome. He felt a bit more equal to him that way, ready to support him. Like a future knight would with his Jedi partner.

He walked slowly toward the entry of the cave, the wind blowing in his face. The ship was positioning itself to take them on board. A light touch to his left hand distracted him a moment.

“Master?”

Qui-Gon had apparently realised his environment was changing. His head was turning and he was touching Obi-Wan’s torso with trembling fingers.

“P… Pada… Padawan” He whispered in a weak expiration. The young man had to prick up his ears to hear it.

He wanted to answer, to take the time to comfort him but a healer came toward them, stealing the moment.

“You must depose him on the stretcher in the ship; then we’ll start to stabilize him.”

His chest hurting from the oh-so-many emotions seizing him, Obi-Wan walked carefully, spreading his legs widely to stride over the drop. Unknown hands immediately took over, carrying away his Master’s body. But as they tried to inject him a physiological salt solution and to take his pulse with an electronic sensor, he began to struggle, arms flying and knocking into the nurses.

“P… P…”

“Stars! Somebody does something to calm him!”

Obi-Wan sprang on his feet, gripping the clenched hands.

“Master, please. We found you and now you need treatment. Stay still.”

The fingers, long with dry skin and large knuckles, explored the wrists of the Padawan, the calluses of his palms, the short but well-cut nails.

“P… P…”

“Yes, that’s it. Continue to relax Master. You’re in security.”

The rest of the examination happened in relative peace, lulled by the sound of wind and the careful caress of the broad digits on the youthful skin.

* * *

The return to the rooms given to them at the beginning of the negotiation was an unobtrusive affaire. The medic in charge stabilized the Jedi Master and recommended a full night of sleep to purge the toxins, under someone’s surveillance.

So Obi-Wan walked in the well-decorated living-room, Qui-Gon at his side, heavily supported by the arm around his waist. The sensation of this weight against him was pleasant, smoothing a part of himself he was just discovering. He helped him to lie down on the double-bed in the adjacent room before he went to collect some supplies under the sink. Lukewarm water filled the plastic bowl. Armed with a small white towel, the young man went back to his Master’s bedside.

The Jedi still wasn’t fully cognizant. Eyes closed, he was making odd noises, apparently distressed by the empty space beside him.

“I’m back Master. I’ve brought some water to clean you up a little before I let you sleep.” Explaining what was happening to him seemed a good idea at the moment. “I’m going to take off your clothes –they have been bloodied and torn by the militia.”

He started to undo the obi, opening and setting aside carefully the cream tunic. The Padawan dipped the towel in the plastic bowl, wrung it out and began to wash the body laid before him. He had already seen it on multiple occasions; a Jedi apprenticeship didn’t leave a lot of place to modesty and intimacy. They used collective showers or bathed in whatever sources of water they could find outside the cities. They were also living in the same apartment since seven years. But the closeness he was experimenting today was new.

Obi-Wan passed the damp fabric other the broad shoulders, the haired chest and armpit. He couldn’t help himself but remark how the thin scars on his ribs seemed to gleam under the soft light.

Qui-Gon had calmed himself once the towel started its soft movement on his skin. He seemed to bath under the attention, breathing deeply, eyes closed. His body purging the drugs appeared to make him seek his apprentice’s closeness.   
It didn’t bother the young man; Obi-Wan was grateful for this occasion to stay at his Master’s side. He needed to be reassured, to feel his presence. Taking care of him –something he hadn’t really done before – was surprisingly soothing and peace-inducing.

As his Master, Qui-Gon had a duty of care and himself a duty of obedience. It was the first time the situation switched their roles.

Obi-Wan discovered at this occasion that he was taking joy in caring for someone. It was a fragile revelation, a little light guiding his movements and his thoughts.

“I’ve finished your upper-body. I’m going to give you a loose shirt before starting to strip your legs. You shouldn’t feel too cold that way.”

The Padawan gently manipulated his arms to put a clean tunic on him. Then he started to take off his boots and his pants. He left the underclothes on as he wetted the towel again.

“I will stay with you tonight, to monitor you.”

Bloodstain disappeared under the cloth. Qui-Gon had strong hairy tights and strangely knobby knees. Obi-Wan avoided his bandaged ankles to clean the underside of his feet.

“Finished!” The Padawan let the towel fall in the bowl and took a pair of night-pants. “I’m putting something to cover your legs.”

The young man rose to go back into the bathroom. He continued to speak as he rinsed the cloth with cold water. “I’m going to wash myself a little and I’m coming back.”

Obi-Wan stripped quickly, stepping in the shower. The hot jet pulsing on his back made the tension he had accumulated during the day finally disappeared. He authorized himself to stay under the water during a few minutes, before stepping outside and drying himself effectively –a habit he took as a young Padawan. His nightclothes – an old and smooth white uniform, was pleasant against his skin.

Qui-Gon seemed to be a bit better. Obi-Wan walked toward the bed, sitting on the empty left side. The movement drew the attention of his Master who tried to speak again.

“Pad..awan?”

“Yes, Master. I’m here.” The young man hesitantly left his hand, finding the courage to stroke the long brown hair. “I’m glad to have you near me.” Like a flower, Qui-Gon turned toward him, searching the caress of his fingers. He bent his long legs and wrapped himself around him.

Obi-Wan stayed silent. He switched off the light and prepared himself to a long sleepless night, sitting crossed-legs on the bed. He dipped into a light state a meditation, all his attention concentrated on the man lying beside him. The feeling of his Master’s head behind his palm made him smiled.

The older man had often guarded his dreams and tented to his hurts. He would be happy to be the guardian of his sleep this time.


End file.
